Long Vault Poems
Long Vault Poems. Below are the most popular long Vault by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vault poems by poem length and keyword.
From Far-Off Worlds, now I am come for you,
Across the ages, and across all time…
Behind the Sun, we first did pledge, and I’m…
Impatient as a crocus for the New
Dawn and the coming of Pure Light
Then, will I finally hold you in my arms?
(And, holding, keep you sealed off from all harms?)
That Promise has dwelt always in my Sight!
Exploding Joy now thunders through my heart,
Yet, like a brooding artist, I do wait
To find an unspoiled color, once storms abate,
Expressing your soft cheek with grace, not ‘art’…
Through fastnesses, high crags, heaths, I have sought
The ebbing flow of light from your bright breast
When I dreamed waves, the waves were at the crest
And whether I was ready… it mattered not!
For you were always there, and called to me,
In softness or in strength, you always called,
And I responding, soared toward you, enthralled!
For you were once there with me, by the sea...
In Ancient Wu, we pledged Love to the sky
As a distant sail that moved across the calm
That we would ever be to each, the balm
That heals the emptiness… thus you and I
Did promise when we met at last, this time
And separation’s bane, we did erase
Below the cherry blossoms, did embrace
Did promise that our Love would higher climb
But humans can but promise for a season,
And then, comes Azrael*, to take away
Togetherness, but still he cannot slay
That Love that burns beyond the reach of reason!
So, I am coming to you from below,
And will assail the vault with my bright cries,
And hold your Image e’er before my eyes
And seal my steps in the sunrise’s bright glow.
_______________
*Azrael – in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem of that name, the Angel of Death
In the mystery of the dark and vast night, the blizzards of forgetfulness cry in silver verses
Under the dome of the sky carved in living stones, I stand alone like a bell of thought forgotten in secrecy
Time flows in circles of fire and forgetfulness, and I am a flame burning in its own ashes
My soul is a butterfly of melted wax, searching for its wings through the labyrinth of the night
My dreams are drops of mercury from the stars, falling into silver cups over the leaves of autumn
Under the moon's eyelid, memories of gold weep, and I gather them in my waxen palms
My step is an echo in the labyrinth of time, searching for my shadow through corridors of thought
The stars are frozen tears on the vault of the sky, and I count them with silver fingers
My soul is a wax bird, seeking its nest in branches of forgetfulness
Time is a river of mercury and forgetfulness, flowing through my glass veins
Under the mantle of the night, memories of gold weep, and I gather them in my smoky palms
My dreams are butterflies of melted wax, searching for their wings through the labyrinth of thought
My soul is a bell of forgotten thought, ringing in secrecy in the endless night
In the mystery of the dark and vast night, the blizzards of forgetfulness cry in silver verses
I prefer my soup hot and fresh.
But sometimes I like to change it up
With something cold, like Gazpacho.
It's still best fresh but still good when cured.
But when it spoils, it's just nasty and discarded.
Poetry never spoils. Timeless and immortal. Ageless.
And enjoyed for generations to come ...
Unique in its own right.
Sharing is essential ...
Dipping our domain into the melting pot.
It takes a Master Chef to get it just right.
Though neophytes can surprise us all sometimes
With their freshness and unexpected recipes.
Poetry never stagnates and still good when served cold.
Rhyme and rhythm, metaphors and motifs,
Lyrics and free verse ... nothing is exempted
When it comes to the ingredients of words.
However, sometimes I just want to scream and swear at the world
With all its unfairness and atrocities.
I keep those to myself when sharing is just too inappropriate and offensive.
Locked away in my time vault, recipes for another age
When people can stomach and tolerate the Mad scientist in me.
Don't get me wrong, challenging wrongness
Still needs to make up for when people make bad soup.
Trying to poison us all with their agendas.
Unflavorfully pushing their tasteless menus.
This venue allows for inspiration and enlightenment ...
An Art that defies every "Modern Age."
So, I thank you for letting me into your dining rooms.
And with an "All are Welcome" mat in front of mine,
You'll always be welcome ... in my home,
A restaurant at THE END of the Universe.
As you walk
without hesitation
without gratitude
Seemingly,
without fear
As you walk
back to your place
of power and privilege
You still
require her to smile
As you walk
past the place of humanity,
brokenness
shrill echoes
of shattered glass
You still
require her to smile
As you walk
back to your place
of power and privilege
Her silent screams
and muffled dreams
are washed away
By the vault of indifference
that slams behind you
she is resigned
to a slow sifting
hourglass of isolation
Yet
you still
require
her to smile
She wearies
of the preparation
of submission
a mask that suffocates,
her pretense of desire
But she is
the
entertainment,
the
meal,
the
pleasure,
the plaything
Her belly aches of
raw foie gras, figs
and Bergerac
It no longer matters
that her soul
is absent from this feast
She gathers her body
stained and sweaty
from your momentary
remembrance of her
The violation
puddles
in quiet places
She submits
to a place
of self-loathing
She knows
that
this
is not
the last
of green men
that will require her to smile
In the courts of sport and entertainment
They have forgotten the scales of justice
Lacking honor for those who gave life and limb
Sacrificing blood, and buried with god giving grace
The anthem is our history
of all triumphs, good, and even flaws
Look into the eyes of a veteran
to see inside a suffering vault
They, who fought, so that you may play
They who died, so that the rich live this day
Even the poor still have their freedoms
For veterans themselves, knew their reasons
No man, no nation can stand up to perfection
Its about respect of those, who gave...
Despite all imperfections
Without, history repeats, sending more to the cross and knave
When you hear "God Bless America"
Think of those flag covered graves
Think of the children
No fathers, because it is you they saved
Our nation is human
Filled with imperfections
Protest for change, for better days
While holding respect for those, who before you
With their blood, led the way
We've experienced pandemics before
but the COVID-19 virus is new.
This coronavirus we can't ignore
so self-quarantine, we're told we need to,
it’s not safe to socialize anymore.
The whole world abruptly ground to a halt
as airlines and cruise ships swiftly shut down.
And although China claims it's not at fault
established in Wuhan's wet market town,
this strain gained the leverage to pole-vault.
The stock market plunges deeper each day
and the economy's in a tailspin.
Politicians practiced at what they say,
seem somewhat vague about the peril we're in,
fearing this virus could be here to stay.
Every city’s rush hour traffic is light
resembling a twilight-zone episode.
Bars and restaurants are locked up tight
and all normal activities have slowed,
as folks shelter in place dealing with fright.
People's lives and livelihoods are at stake
with the elderly at more risk than most.
This virus bequeaths turmoil in its wake
and using current stats as a guidepost,
it'll take distancing to stop this outbreak.
(Quintain Sicilian)
03/20/2020
Be naked with me, while you leave the thoughts of your soul behind on my pillows and sheets
And since your departing with the personal go ahead and leave the past behind like your shadow post meridian
Because last week keeps you weak a kind of blindness for the aspiring and meek
Taking off your clothes one by one, leave your skin vulnerable with me
Start by kicking off your shoes that keep secret where your mind runs when the darkness comes
Then slide off your shirt because it’s hiding your hearts true desires
Next move to your pants as they only hide where your legs have been
Let my teeth remove your under things concealing the bare, private, and concrete vault of what your eyes wished to see in place of reality
Last remove your socks that cloud the free minds from seeing the hearts that tasted your gold
Be uncovered and unguarded with me like arrows shot through rose petals on the bed
Be powerless and let me take over to give you strength
Be open from the roots to the floor as we move from wall to wall to the conclusion Jericho
Be nude because I want to see it all, I love it all because it brought me to you
Be naked with me so, I plus you can be we leading to a new transparency
p.s. now as you get dressed there will always be some of me underneath, our new heart beat…
In the secretive Bethlehem, the sacred throng descends,
Heavenly light, on the narrow path of gemstones,
Upon the silvery foam, the gentle angels glide,
Carrying hopes in their hands, onto the land where calmness lies.
Bethlehem arises, bowed by the burden of time,
And Joseph with Mary, humility and prayer on their path,
In the shadow of a withered shelter, breathing anticipation,
In a scene of the holy world, Jesus — the light that comes to bring.
Their path, a divine ribbon, laid out in reverie,
She, the Virgin, frozen in the timeless moment, silent,
In the womb, she conceals the heavenly gift, unparalleled,
Where heaven stretches, angels whisper, the Messiah, laid in the humble manger.
The foretold birth under the serene astral vault,
Arriving at the moment of destiny, in the shelter of straw, he is laid,
The most holy son, the messenger of peace, in the chill of the earth.
He, the news, embraces the human race, with pure affection to save.
Jesus, the great shepherd, in the mystery of the night, he appears,
His flock, the faceless multitude, adorn him in high praise,
We exalt him, we worship, in body and immortal spirit,
For faith unites us, on the path of divine love, unconditionally.
This word has such captive effect
there's imprisonment within its thought
behind bars with no key be found
hope seems lost its life been shot
But there's a positive if you look
deep down in its vault somewhere
hope returns springing up again
hang in there don't allow it to tear
For possession can take you higher
way up above the skies if you dare
let nothing interfere with your climb
leave them behind just let them stare
In any game possession is the key
you've the ball only one in the game
as long as you hold it you're to win
opposition are beat having no claim
So learn to use possession well
for your profit so you'll know no loss
concentrate deep holding control
truly proving you are the big boss
aye …
on such
divine evenings, thus,
are perfect odes not freely spun?
the Perseids, dancing their
jocund jigs -
capricious, evanescent stripes of
golden ire under a tapestry
of wonders …
watching rapt, ever-attentive,
streaking, burning ephemeral, as if the
gods themselves trace their
fingertips gently on
a phosphorescent brine …
but this, yet,
a sea of suns, amaranthine …
I wonder, could it be …
they are fleeting?
the hopes of idle angels, perhaps,
dying bright in the veil of Zion -
plunging to the earth
as if mortal …
perchance, they're pearls of Sol -
strands of liquid morning,
to adorn, pure, the breast of Heaven …
could be …
they're forsaken souls -
lost spirits, given one last chance to
burn their id on the firmament …
or even yet …
the wondrous wishes of children,
sparking to life in the midst of
their deepest dreaming,
and then … gone …
oh, surely,
it must be that,
their bright, momentary glory can
be meant for ONLY such
tender fancies,
the imaginings of youth,
the one fit and worthy vessel for
such runes …
and I, but their ever-willing caretaker …
picking each one from
the fiery vault like precious
gems from a parcel,
and plopping them, sweet,?
into the deep, soft pocket of my joys … thus,
on such divine evenings ...
aye!
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Shooting Stars" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (5), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile One" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Cosmos" Poetry Contest, Thvia Shetley, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Spring" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ on Poetry Soup.com, awarded August 7, 2017.